Remember Me

It had to be over.

No one was fighting. The defenders of Hogwarts were powerless. The Death Eaters were crowing in delighted victory.

But something was stopping them.

Though the walls were lined with broken witches and wizards, their wands taken from them, rope tied around their hands their eyes didn’t bow down to the Death Eaters. Though they were subdued with spells that prevented moving from the wall, though they were unable to speak they did not accept Voldemort as their master. Many of their eyes were focused on the Boy Who Lived, the person who, they believed, would save them all.

Harry was forced against the wall with them, his tied hands scraping against the stone. His body was weak and achy, and whenever he moved it felt like his limbs were on fire. He could not think clearly. His head was full of white, dense fog.

He was concentrating on standing upright. Harry felt like he would fall down any second. It was surprising how hard such a simple task seemed.

A person in Death Eater robes was in front of him, pointing their wand into his face. Harry recognised Cho Chang, his old girlfriend. Malfoy had Imperiused her too, he remembered. He should have done something about it. Instead, he had left.

He looked around at the people that were imprisoned against the walls of the Hall like him. Some were sobbing, though the sounds were muted. Some were staring definitely at the Death Eaters, at Voldemort, who stood in the centre of the room, holding his wand gently.
Harry felt numb, almost lifeless as he looked at the defenders. There were people he didn’t even know, had never seen before here. Then there were others, like the teachers and the owner of Honeydukes; many so students of Hogwarts, some so young they could have been in their first year. And, his green eyes still travelling around, Harry saw people he loved, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Fred and George, Luna.

And then he saw Cassandra. It was a wonder she had managed to survive, after hitting Voldemort like that, and for a moment he had thought she wouldn’t. He had pulled out of harm’s way at the last moment, so the jet of green light missed her, and when she was near him, the other Death Eaters wouldn’t fire for fear of hitting him instead. So Cassandra had run, and in the confusion that had followed, with everyone else coming in the Great Hall, she had escaped.

He looked at her, and did not want to stop. Her waist-length golden hair was knotted, and had blood and mud dried in it. Her face was grimy, smudged with dirt and dust and blood, and her robes were tattered and torn. He looked into her face against, and saw that her grey eyes were still blazing with a fire, and she was staring right at him.

Cassandra seemed to be telling him something. Her eyes darted to his face, then to the floor and back again. She raised her eyebrows meanfully, and, looking where she was, Harry saw a spare wand.

He could have laughed at the impossibility of it. He hardly move, even if the spells weren’t holding him back.

Voldemort spoke, and though his voice was just a whisper, it captured the attention of everyone in the room.

“Harry Potter.”

Harry looked away from Cassandra and stared up into the snake-like eyes.

“So many hours,” Voldemort said, “And still you have refused to give me what I need.”

There was going to be more pain, Harry thought, more agony, more curses cast at him, and he felt himself shaking. He did not think his body could take any more.

“And I thought,” Voldemort continued, raising his voice a little. “I thought that perhaps a little more persuasion was needed.”

Harry’s mouth was completely dry. His breathing quickened.

Voldemort turned his head slowly, and harry realised that he was looking at a Death Eater that was holding someone in a tight grip. The person was struggling, fighting fiercely, but to no avail. Voldemort pointed his wand at him, and the red-headed person froze, immobilized.

“Ron!” Harry yelled, fear for his friend driving the pain away. “RON, NO!”

He staggered forwards, but the invisible barrier prevented him from moving any further. “NO!”

Voldemort’s lipless mouth curved into a smile as he slowly raised his wand and pointed it at Ron’s chest.

“No!” yelled Harry, struggling against his bonds. “I’ll…I’ll tell you it, just stop it!”

Voldemort pointed his wand at Ron’s chest, and then turned to face Harry. He tilted his head slightly. His face was calm, though he couldn’t conceal the sudden eagerness in his eyes.

“Very well,” Voldemort said slowly. “Tell me the prophecy…and I shall not harm them.”

The green eyes met the red, and Harry knew what he must do.

It was the only way to save them, to save everyone, to keep them alive. The words of the prophecy tingled on his tongue, and he knew what would happen once he told Voldemort.

But it was for Ron, for Hermione and Cassandra, for the Weasley’s and Luna and Dumbledore, and for everyone he loved and he knew that there was no other way, that this had to be it.

He had to die.

Harry opened his mouth, wanting it to happen quickly before he lost courage, before he showed fear. Voldemort’s wand was still pointing at Ron.

He began to say the words of the prophecy, and they echoed in the silence of the Hall.

*

If Cassandra had been panicking before, it was nothing to how she felt now.

She reckoned only she, Ron and Hermione truly knew what Voldemort knowing the prophecy would mean. No one else understood the importance of it. They would not know that Voldemort would surely kill Harry after this.

Harry spoke, and his voice was quite calm, and though he was quiet everyone was listening, some with trepidation, some in confusement and Voldemort in eagerness, hungry to know it finally, after months of waiting.

And Cassandra knew why Harry was doing it. He was doing it to save everyone in this hall, everyone that had fought for him. He believed he was saving everyone from Voldemort. He would die so they could live.

Apart from one person.

Because she couldn’t live without him.

And suddenly, she remembered word that Dumbledore had told her long ago. You carry the spirit of Godric Gryffindor. And Cassandra knew.

It was as if she had known all along, because she knew what to do and how to do it. It came perfectly easily to her.

Though it caused her searing, blinding pain, and she could not see that, as she fell to the ground, a figure had appeared. He straightened up, shaking his long mane of red hair out of his eyes, looking down at the girl with long blonde hair that was lying with her eyes closed, still and unmoving at his feet.

Godric Gryffindor had risen again.